Still Standing

 

The summer of 2024 began placidly enough.

Abundant spring rains kissed away the scars of the previous year that had been left by hordes of grasshoppers swooping down the canyon upon us with the force of a Biblical plague. They stripped entire bushes and trees bare, leaving sticks in their wake.

Inspired by nature's show of life, I had replaced the old cushions on the deck furniture and repotted the plants from the greenhouse to create a comforting green space. A new fire table promised some cozy evenings under the string lights. 

Then "Hell Week" Hit.

Midsummer, we were hit with a series of trials faintly reminiscent of the famously brutal week Navy S.E.A.L. trainees endure at the end of their training. Only it didn't last a week. This series of trials began in June of 2024 and only receded in April of 2025.

Our quadriplegic son Kevin developed sepsis from a kidney stone obstruction and needed a Life Flight to a larger hospital in north Idaho. From there, we descended into a circle of infections, another Life Flight, nearly two dozen ambulance rides, hospital stays, surgical procedures, home, and back to the hospital.

We were forced to evacuate our home when it was threatened by a wildfire that came within yards of destroying our property. It felt emblematic of the internal flames raging through us. 

Kevin endured nearly a year and a half of intense suffering. We fought hard for our son and brother, staying at his side through hectic days and unforgiving nights as we wept with him and prayed our hearts out.

At some point, though I can't say when, our focus changed. We still prayed constantly for help and healing. The questions and the inevitable "Why, Lord?" began to fall into the dirt with our plans and hopes. There was no time or strength left for arguing with the Almighty. 

We were at war. 

We engaged the battle, recognizing that Our commander was at work in our lives, and He wanted more than lip service. He asked for our trust and complete surrender to His will. It was terrifying to give it all over to Him- as if holding onto anything could change the outcome.

The miracles were many. Kevin survived the ordeal and is healing at home. We gathered many treasures in the people we met, the fellowship we shared with strangers, and the day to day glimpses of God's presence in the battlefield.

God is good. God is fierce. God is worthy of our trust.

He Is Either Everything He Claims, or We Follow an Illusion.

Eventually, each one of us is confronted with His sovereignty and the rights Jesus acquired over our lives when He redeemed us. There can only be one commander of this army. The fight is not for our comfort or happiness. A world needs to see the redemption of God revealed through the lives of His people as we follow Him through the minefields of life. His goal is never to destroy us, but to build a band of brothers to serve Him with one heart.

Below is an excerpt from my caregiving devotional, Out from the Shadows. May you be encouraged that God is really at work in your lives. It is safe to trust Him.

Band of Brothers

Be sober, be vigilant;

because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion,

seeking whom he may devour.

Resist him, steadfast in the faith,

knowing that the same sufferings are experienced

by your brotherhood in the world. - 1 Peter 5:8-9 NKJV

I was alone that evening. It was a good thing because I was feeling cranky at life in general and at God in particular. The constant demands of caregiving, compounded by other stresses in my life, had me convinced God was an unyielding taskmaster.

I decided to splurge a little rare personal time on some television. A DVD about Navy S.E.A.L.S. was sitting near the flat screen. I popped it into the DVD player, plopped onto the sofa, and settled in for a relaxing couple of hours.

Training to become a Navy S.E.A.L. is famously harsh. But I wasn’t prepared to witness the brutal conditions the men are exposed to in order to be accepted into the program. The show began with the usual drills, inspections, and harassment expected in military training.

Soon it got tougher. Stone-faced officers pounded the trainees through a rigorous daily routine. The men endured endless hours of grueling physical work as they were scrutinized for any perceived weaknesses.

Under the relentless pressure, some of the men began to falter. I began to feel sorry for them. I sat up and watched on tensely.

Then the training session dubbed Hell Week descended upon the men. They went for days with little food and no sleep. They executed nonstop drills in the icy sea water. Any hint of rebellion, foul attitude, or waning energy was met with a bombardment of derision from the trainers. Men stumbled through the endless commands, trembling from cold and exhaustion.

Tempers flared. Insurrection rose to the surface. In the long days and nights of training in the sea and on the beach, men threw up, passed out, and quit.

By now I sat fuming on the edge of my seat. How could they treat men with such inhumanity? It seemed so wrong.

As the end of Hell Week drew near, a class of over eighty trainees had dwindled closer to twenty men. Those who were left followed orders without hesitation. During the rare rest periods, they huddled together on the beach to keep warm, personal space long since abandoned.

But they were tough. They had been pushed to the edge, and they had conquered it all as a team. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses and how to work together.

Abruptly, the instructors relaxed their demands, a pre-arranged move saved for the moment they felt the trainees were finally functioning as a unit. Only then did I realize how carefully they had monitored the men to keep them safe while surgically excising those not ready to be on the team. Those who were left operated as one man, knit together in bonds only adversity can create.

I was surprised to hear the bruised and bone-weary men praise their instructors. They understood the instructors’ job was to re-create the stress of battle conditions in order to forge a band of brothers who would fight to the death for each other and their cause.

By now I was in tears. I got the message. In that holy moment God reserves for revelation and repentance, I bowed my heart to Him and asked His forgiveness for doubting Him.

I understood in a new way how His work in our lives, harsh as it may feel, is weeding out that which weakens us as He makes us a band of brothers and sisters who can endure any hardship and conquer every trial together.